


5:30

by aph_polonya



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, First Meetings, Love at First Sight, M/M, Paris (City), Public Transportation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-15 02:30:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16053578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aph_polonya/pseuds/aph_polonya
Summary: Francis had always believed that the first meeting with the man of his dreams would be in a romantic place-a quaint little café maybe or a beautiful castle-but definitely not in an overcrowded metro.





	5:30

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just gonna be honest now and say that I've never been to Paris and have no idea if this is how public transport in Paris is like. So let's just pretend that this is completely authentic, okay?

**5:30**

The first thing Francis notices as he enters the metro is the heat. The air inside is too warm, too sticky and almost unbearable. The next thing he realizes is that it’s full. The compartment is packed with people of all ages, all genders, all skin colors and their presence definitely doesn’t make the 30-minute drive more pleasant. The smell of sweat is overwhelming and the sound of too loud conversations is almost deafening. It’s 5:30 pm in Paris, an exceptionally hot evening in an exceptionally hot week in mid-July. And, needless to say, the worst time to be stuck in an overcrowded metro.

Francis tries to make his way through the crowd in search of more space (and better air, he’s certain he is going to suffocate any second now). He curses inwardly as he gets stuck between bodies and is again reminded of why he normally doesn’t take the metro. He wishes he was in his nice, cool, air-conditioned car right now, calmly driving down the streets. But said car had decided that the probably hottest day of the entire year is the best day to stop working, forcing Francis to take the metro. And now he finds himself stuck in the hell that’s public transport, where space and fresh air are unobtainable goods.

Finally, in the next compartment, he finds what he hoped for. It’s still crowded (it _is_ rush hour after all), as well as sticky and hot, but it’s nonetheless a lot more bearable than in the last compartment. He sets his bag down and turns around. This is the moment when he sees _him_. The man is approximately Francis’ age (maybe a little younger, it’s hard to tell) and Francis thinks he’s never seen anyone more beautiful in his life. He is sitting at a spot next to a middle-aged woman who is talking loudly on the phone. He’s obviously annoyed, Francis can tell, and seemingly has to restrain himself from telling her off. He’s handsome, despite the irritated expression on his face, with short, light blonde hair that glows in the sunlight and a strong, sharp jawline. His eyes (a very beautiful, very unique, piercing blue) scan his surroundings. He eyes the people around him cautiously and pulls his bag closer to his body whenever someone comes near. He’s tall and quite muscular and Francis can’t help but stare and think that he wants to, no, _needs_ to know everything about this man.  

The metro slowly starts to empty as people get out at their respective stations and, to Francis’ luck, the spot next to the man becomes vacant. Without thinking, Francis takes his chance and sits down next to him as elegantly and graciously as he can. The man lifts his gaze for a second to look at Francis. He looks annoyed at first, but his expression soon shifts to intrigued as he takes in the stranger next to him. His eyes trail over Francis’ face, from his hair to his lips, carefully examining every detail. He seems to get flustered, however, and quickly drops his gaze again and instead opts for watching the people around him suspiciously, as if he expects something bad to happen any second. Francis takes the opportunity to inspect him more closely. Now that he’s seeing him better, he notices how tired and worn out the man looks. He has dark bags under his eyes and seems tense and stressed. Francis can’t help but wonder what it is that stresses him so much. His work? He’s wearing a suit, so maybe he’s a banker? Or a manager? Or maybe it’s something else. Maybe he’s having troubles at home, with his family. Whatever it is, Francis doesn’t like the thought of this beautiful stranger being unhappy. He can already imagine himself, gently consoling the man as he comes home after a long, tiring day. He’s staring quite intently now and admires the man’s strong nose, his high, defined cheek bones and wonders how those rough, chapped lips might feel. Francis looks away in an attempt to shake the thoughts that come to his head, watching the others around him instead. There’s a young woman who tries to console her crying child. An old man is sitting in his seat, seemingly asleep, completely unbothered by the noise around him. Two young girls are happily chatting about a movie they recently watched. None of these people catch his attention the way the man next to him does. Francis turns his attention back to him and suddenly finds the man’s gaze locked on him. He blushes a deep red as he realizes he’s been caught staring and quickly turns away again.

It's maybe one or two stations later that Francis decides to take his chance and directly address the man. He waits for a while, until the man’s gaze shifts back to him (it’s almost as if the man can’t help but stare at Francis), before he turns towards him with his most dazzling smile on his lips. The man just looks at him in confusion as he sees the smile, but Francis doesn’t let this discourage him. He extends his hand and says as charmingly as he can: “I’m Francis.” The look on the man’s face becomes even more bewildered now, but Francis can also see that he’s slightly flattered. The man blushes and obviously doesn’t know how to respond. “Won’t you tell me your name, my dear?” Francis adds flirtatiously. There’s an awkward pause as the man fumbles for words, but he soon catches himself. He shakes Francis’ hand before he replies: “I’m Ludwig.” He has a strong accent, but Francis finds that he doesn’t mind. “That… sounds quite German.” “That’s because it is.” Ludwig replies matter-of-factly. “So, Ludwig, what brings you to Paris then?” “Work”, he answers simply. “Ah, I see. How do you like Paris? It’s a beautiful city, isn’t it?” “Yes, it’s very nice. I like it a lot.” “Have you been to the Louvre yet?” “Not yet, no.” Francis gasps and tries to look offended. “My dear, I’m afraid I’ll have to inform you that this is absolutely scandalous. You need to visit it as soon as possible.” “I was busy…”, Ludwig begins, trying to defend himself. But Francis quickly puts on that dazzling smile again. “We really need to change that. How would you like it if I showed you around? I’m quite of an art connoisseur, if I may say so.” Ludwig seems to ponder the offer for a second. “That sounds nice, yes. How about tomorrow at one pm?” Francis’ smile brightens. “Perfect.”, he replies. Ludwig gives a little half-smile, not particularly big or radiant, but enough to make Francis feel warm and happy and good. In this moment, he decides that he loves the metro.

 


End file.
